PBR with HDHM (a Round Robin)

[Usual rules apply - each person writes a sentence. All the participants had the ability to read the previous sentences, though I'm not sure everyone actually did.]

"Gimme a citywide," the hot dog head man said. "I've had a hell of a day. You'll relish the tale."

"Best I can do is one of these paper cones they inexplicably use for hydration purposes even though they are embarrassingly small," the bartender replied and handed HDHM the libation. The condensation made it slippery.

As the man stared into the cup, he began to reflect on the horrific day he had experienced. Never in his life had he experienced anything like it.

You ever hear of elevator accidents? That's how the real Avril Lavigne died.

"What's your stance on Israel & Palestine?" I asked the bartender, ready to make my horrific day worse."

Just as the bartender was about to speak, a cat jumped on the bar and dashed across, knocking over the tiny paper cone and spilling well whiskey on the man with the hot dog head.

(If you're having trouble following this story - ketchup!)

"You're still going to have to pay for that," the bartender said.

And that was it, the man had had it.

I paid then the bouncer asked me to leave.

The whiskey suddenly combusted, ripping right to my rippling testicles nestled in my scrotum; tumbling in horrific fiery pain like a 9/11 ferris wheel.

I vomited on my own shoes.

A Trip to the Twat-tanic (Round Robin)

Rules: everyone could see the whole story and had to either add one sentence or something to the drawing.

"It's a little small, but I think we can all fit in," the man in the top hat said to the gathered group. The smell of boneless chicken thighs wisped from his grizzled beard as he latched the massive door open. "Bathroom's in there," he said, pointing to a corner of the nine-foot-by-nine-foot steel box.

Billy looked nervously at the tiny room, turning to his dad when a small cat jumped through the group into the submarine before them.

"I named it the Titan," the Top Hat said proudly, "as it's a hubris against God and also in honor of my dick." He pulled out a photograph of Richard Nixon and smiled as he reached down to his fly and released his penis - also named 'Dick'.

Top Hap pointed at the cat and said "cat's name is Moby. Unrelated to the book. Now we're going on a journey." The door to the submarine closed behind them with a bong. Billy jumped.

"A journey - to the bottom of the ocean. My name is Chester and this is my vagin-advenure."

The crane picked up the submarine and dropped it in and Top Hat motioned wiping his hands, chuckling was the last thing Billy saw before they broke the water's surface.

"The deep sea is the last unexplored frontier and the twat-anic is a testament to the beauty and power of mother nature." The submarine began to descend and viscous, slimy bubbles began to adhere to the one window at the bow.

"Are we going to be okay in here?" Billy asked. "I have a little rumbly in my tummy." Top Hat smiled and grinned at Billy - inspecting his ripe asshole with his tongue, he gently mused "Billy, that is to be hoped for, my lad."

The yawning maw of the Twat-anic came into full view in that moment. Mermaids, krakens, the Loch Ness Monster, and Leonardo DiCaprio swam past the window. Billy smiled despite his misgivings, in awe of the wonderous sight, the land of milk and honey, and th-

The Integrity of my Sphincter

 [written exquisite corpse style at writing group - each author could only see the previous line]

The gas pains were so intense.

They hurt so bad that even the artisanal ass lotion I'd bought wasn't cutting it.

My ass, honestly, needed relief.

Reading the Preparation H directions incorrectly, I accidentally applied the salve to the wrong end of my alimentary canal.

I'd say I yelped in surprise, but it was more like a dog's frightened howl.

I had lost all faith in the integrity of my sphincter.

I prayed to the Ass God for the strength to deliver this burden.

But there I sat, broken hearted - tried to shit and merely farted.

I dismissed the tumescent centaur from my bathroom and cried into my Caesar salad - freshly tossed - and managed to peel the centaur cum from my eyelashes.

What awkward timing! My mom was calling me on my phone.

Fuck that bitch, I thought, and crushed my phone between my powerful breasts.

The FBI agents tapping my phone knew something was up, but they didn't understand what they were dealing with.

Despite their training, the immense capacity of my anal cavity was enough to blow their minds - a la "Scanners" - and, in an inspired moment, I indulge in a binge of bum-stuffing, cramming the G-men inside me until I could no longer walk, my analphagia yet unsatisfied.

I let loose a sigh - from my mouth and from my gaping asshole, filled to the brim with soft-serve justice - with a cornucopia of pleasure and pain.

And that, I tell my children, is the story of the happiest day in my life.

Cookie's Birthday

[written round robin style at writing group]

Cookie

It was the night before Cookie's birthday and I hadn't bought her a gift. She already had an industrial sized bottle of children's NyQuil with codeine, so I took to the Silk Road to find her something to match her erratic personality. Soon she'd be a coked up Cookie.

On my Silk Road journey I also discovered a vendor who made built-to-order robotic cats - I couldn't resist getting Cookie a playmate. The cat would have teal, metallic fur and its meow would be 'guttural'. I clicked 'buy', but a pop-up appeared citing a 'flagrant system error'.

Moon Shine

ROUND ROBIN PROMPT: it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

• Timed
• Author change denoted by %
• Some light editing for ESL authors

With a shiver I cursed what had gotten me into this whole predicament. I rubbed my calloused hands up and down my now-raw arms and legs, trying to bring a moment of warmth to my flesh. A noble, but doomed effort - beyond the walls of this pitch-black cabin was tons upon tons of ice and snow.

I shouldn’t have been so cocky. %

RIP Laika

[Written Round Robin style in March 2018. Two coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Stardate 25, 25. The strangest thing happened to me today. I woke up to find most of my space crops destroyed by tiny space bugs. I've tried my best to get rid of them, but they have proved more resilient than I'd ever imagined. I have tried drowning, burning, and squishing - essentially, I've run out of food.

Out of options, I tried to eat some of the bugs, but now I find myself vomiting uncontrollably. After I finished eating the vomit, I was oddly satiated. Perhaps this could keep me alive?

Next issue: where will I go to the bathroom? I didn't bring a fire hydrant. I've been holding it for nearly two lightyears now. Two lightyears... that means, I'm, like, 220 years old now. I'm going to need quite a few candles on my next cake - bug cake, I suppose.

The Overworked Mailman

[Written Round Robin style in October 2017. Four coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Yesterday I got into a fight with my mailman. He tried to tell me that I was ordering too many oversized packages. I was told in no uncertain terms where I could put any further packages - and it wasn't in the mail room. He told me I had to put them in my grandma.

Once I told my grandma about this, she went for her gun in the closet. Grandma was always sensitive over the size of her vagina. I watched her waddle with disgust, her labia lips clearly slapping her knees with each step. It was a sound I'd heard my whole life, I knew she was pissed... but I had also noticed the piss streaming down her leg - time to clean that up.

General Tso's Battle

[Written Round Robin style in August 2017. Many coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

I looked at the general, eyes popping out of my head. “Will that be enough to finally stop them?” I asked. My heart fell as I saw one of his dirt-caked hands reach out toward me. He was missing his other arm; it was lost in the battle. I lamented to the general, Tso, “will you still be able to prepare your delicious chicken dish?”

Twas the Night Before Friday

[Written Round Robin style in March 2017. Many coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched. You decide if anyone knew how rhyming couplets work!]

Twas the night before Friday, and all through the Coop, the redditors gathered to consume some soup. I looked over the menu, in search of something tasty. I needed a menu item clarified, so I asked the guy next to me - yeah, the guy that's pasty. When I looked in my hand, I saw that I had a beer, a wine, and a whiskey that's bland. And then, all of the sudden I heard my favorite band. Radio isn't dead, at least not the FM band!

So I jumped to my feet as the funky music blared, not one person noticed - no one cared! I'm disappointed Simon didn't paint the Eagles on the side of his car. But Jesse gave no fucks, as he talked to Nihar.

Curiosity Rover

[Third of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Few enthusiasts remembered the original Curiosity Rover, one of the earliest unmanned missions to Mars. It had been nearly a century since its last transmission - or, at least, since we had received a transmission. That is why the lab was in a frenzy - we had received a transmission!

The frequency was ancient, as far as anyone knew, but NASA didn't receive this one - it came from SETI.

"Sir! We've finally decoded the signal!"

Inspiration art by me.

Keith's Shame

[Second of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Keith was never very good at dealing with shame.

"I can't fucking believe she'd share that," he groaned. His secret life as a cult leader had crept into his normal, ordinary life in this suburban town. It seemed everywhere he went, all eyes were on him.

Inspiration Art by WW

Portal Crotch

[First of three. Written Round Robin style on 16 Feb '17. JM & WW coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

I stared my crotch right in the face, knowing damn well what it was up to. The knocking told my crotch that it was to start the ceremony. The guests were the best Craigslist had to offer, but really, you get what you pay for. Let's face it though, my crotch didn't have much money. The door swung open slowly, revealing two men and a woman.

"Are you Keith? Your girlfriend promised discretion..."

Inspiration Art by JM